Stand Alone

by P. D. Workman

  “It has nothing to do with prejudice,” the older of the two cops, graying around the temples, told her. “What you’re doing has an inherent danger, and it damages property. So you’re going to have to move on.”

  “What are you going to do about it if I don’t?” Justine questioned, taking a step closer into their personal space and smiling at both officers. “You going to arrest me or something?”

  “Is that what it’s going to take before you listen?”

  Justine considered.

  “Why arrest me? For trespassing? It’s a public place. They’ll just throw it out.”

  “Then just leave voluntarily,” the younger officer told her. “This doesn’t have to be a confrontation. You just do what you’re asked. If you did what you were asked when the librarian told you to, then we wouldn’t have to be here.”

  “Then I’d miss seeing you. I wouldn’t want that.”

  The younger one eyed her.

  “Justine  …”

  Justine felt a warm flush. She grinned at him.

  “You know my name,” she observed. She looked at his name badge. Officer Curtis. “I guess we’ve met before, huh, Curtis?”

  “Yes. I’ve met you before. And I really don’t want to have to do this again. So just go.”

  Justine shook her head and held out her wrists in invitation. There were murmurs from the spectators who had stayed when the cops showed up, interested in not just the tricks, but the show that followed.

  Officer Curtis looked at his partner, and then shaking his head, he took his handcuffs off his belt and put them over Justine’s proffered wrists.

  “Come get in the car,” he ordered, and Justine meekly went with him. The police officers took her to the squad car, and put her in the back seat and her board in the front. They shut the doors, and talked outside the car. They turned away from Justine and kept their voices low, so she couldn’t divine the nature of the conversation. Eventually, they got back in. Curtis sat in the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. The other cop sat in the passenger seat. He turned and looked Justine over once, then turned back around and faced the road.

  “So, am I under arrest?” Justine questioned.

  “No.”

  “Where are you going to take me, then?” Justine asked, sitting forward and pressing her face against the grill to be as close to them as possible.

  Neither one answered.

  “Come on, Curtis,” Justine encouraged. “Where are you taking me? Home? I don’t want to go home.”

  They didn’t say anything. Justine watched the roads fly by beside her, wondering what was going on. They weren’t heading toward home. They said they weren’t arresting her. So what was going on? They didn’t say anything to her. Didn’t talk to each other. Justine felt a tinge of worry, but she quickly brushed it away. She trusted the police.

  Eventually, the car pulled onto a highway.

  “Where are we going?” Justine demanded.

  Again, there was no answer. Justine sat back, thumping her head back on the headrest. She closed her eyes. Eventually, the car stopped, pulling over to the side. Justine opened her eyes and looked around. They were out in the middle of nowhere.

  “Out,” Curtis told her, when he opened the back door.

  “Why? What’s this all about?” Justine questioned.

  “Just get out.”

  Justine climbed stiffly out of the back seat. Curtis unlocked the handcuffs and handed Justine her board. Justine took it in her hand and held it firmly, caressing the familiar feeling of the finish with her thumb. She looked at Curtis in confusion for an explanation. He slipped back into the driver’s seat, and drove away, leaving her standing there. Justine watched it flip a U-turn and drive back into the city. She gave a disbelieving laugh.

  “Seriously?” she questioned aloud.

  There was no answer. The answer was obvious. They had taken her on a scenic tour, left her to find her own way home. They knew that she would do what she had said, just move on to another place and continue to make a nuisance of herself. It wasn’t worth their while to arrest her. So they just dumped her. Justine put her board down and started to ride further away.

  Justine put out her thumb and watched another truck go thundering past her. She gave him a different digit instead. She turned back toward the oncoming traffic. She held out her thumb, stepping slightly off of the shoulder to where the traffic would have to swerve slightly to avoid her. If they didn’t, she still had room to jump out of its path.

  A car hit its brakes, squealing to a stop a few feet away from her. Justine smiled and walked toward it.

  “Hey,” she said. “Thanks. Will you give me a lift?”

  “Where are you going?”

  Justine shrugged, and said the first place to come to her mind.

  “Burbank.”

  “You a runaway or something? You should just go back the way you came,” the woman jerked her thumb back toward the city.

  Justine shook her head.

  “No, I’m not going back there. So can I get a ride with you, or not?”

  The driver reached over and opened the passenger door. Justine got in and squeezed herself into the front seat. It was awkward with her backpack and her board, but she was used to squeezing into Em’s tiny car with both, so it wasn’t a big deal.

  “You want to throw your stuff in the trunk?” the woman questioned.

  “No, I’m good, thanks. I’ll hang onto it.”

  “I’m not going to steal it.”

  Justine nodded.

  “Thanks for the lift.”

  The woman pulled out onto the highway again. Justine looked at the woman through the corner of her eye. She was younger than Em, but not a kid. Old enough to be independent and have her own life. Maybe married, but no kids. Justine was glad there were no kids screaming in the back seat. This way, she could just enjoy the scenery whipping by outside the window and just relax.

  “Don’t you know how dangerous it is to be hitchhiking?” the driver questioned.

  “What’s your name?” Justine questioned.

  The woman glanced at her, frowning.

  “Shirley.”

  “I’m  … Katie.”

  Shirley gave her a doubtful look.

  “Sure you are,” she said. “Don’t you know hitchhiking is dangerous?”

  “You look pretty safe,” Justine observed. “I wouldn’t get in with just anyone.”

  “I could be dangerous, you wouldn’t know.”

  Justine grinned.

  “Okay, I wouldn’t know. But you don’t look too dangerous.”

  Shirley settled back into her seat, shaking her head.

  “Well, lucky for you, I’m not,” she admitted.

  They drove for a while in silence. Shirley turned on the radio and searched for a station. She settled on something that wasn’t quite easy listening, but not really anything popular either. Justine could put up with it.

  “Are you running away?” Shirley questioned.

  “No,” Justine said. “I’m going home.”

  “I can’t drive you all the way to Burbank, but I can get you part way there.”

  “That’s great. I appreciate it.”

  More silence.

  “But you’re really not running away?” Shirley asked again.

  “I’m not running away,” Justine laughed. “I’ve had enough of bumming around here. Time to go back home.”

  “Well, good for you. I’m sure your family will be glad to see you.”

  Justine nodded. She turned away from Shirley to watch out the window. She should have anticipated that whoever picked her up would be interested in conversation, but Justine didn’t really feel like talking. She wanted to soak it all in. She was starting on a new adventure. A new epoch in her life. It was good-bye Em, and hello world. No more fights. No more arguing over meals. No more school. No more therapists. The police had put her on a new road, started her on a new journey.

  It didn’t
really bother Em that she wasn’t prepared. It might look like she was ready for a road trip, with her full backpack, but it was mostly just school books. She’d dump them the first chance she got and start stocking up on necessities. She had a hoodie to help keep her warm. She had a water bottle. Luckily, she had stashed a number of fruit and granola bars, just in case of emergency, so she had something to eat until she found a place to hunker down. She had a little cash, but not much. Most of her goods would have to be begged or stolen. Justine thought this all through dispassionately. She didn’t have a problem with any of it. This was her new life, and she was going to make the most of it.

  Shirley got the hint and didn’t try to talk her ear off. Mostly, they drove in silence. Now and then, Shirley would ask a question, and most of them Justine answered. Some of them she ignored or deflected. She put her head back and closed her eyes, and let the miles melt away.

  “Are you sure you want to be dropped off here?” Shirley questioned, looking doubtfully at the brightly lit truck stop.

  “Why not?” Justine questioned. “Lots of people here. Nothing is going to happen.”

  “There could be all kinds of people in there. You have no idea what you might be getting yourself into.”

  Justine shrugged.

  “I’ve gotten along fine up until now,” she pointed out. Shirley had no idea that ‘up until now’ was only a few hours. If she bought Justine’s story, she thought that Justine had been out on her own for some time, and was headed back home now.

  “I don’t like to leave you here.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Justine assured her. She opened the car door and unfolded herself. She was stiff after sitting for so many hours in the car, and glad to get on her feet again. “Thanks for the ride,” she told Shirley, and shut the door. Shirley watched her walk into the truck stop before she pulled the car out and drove away again.

  Justine looked around the truck stop and chose a seat at the counter. An older waitress, her blond and gray, curly hair somewhat disordered, wiped down the counter in front of Justine, although it was already sparkling.

  “Where’d you blow in from?” she questioned, wiping sweat from her face with the back of her arm.

  “I’m headed for Burbank,” Justine said. It was the destination that mattered, not where she had come from. The past was behind her. As far behind her as possible. The waitress nodded.

  “What can I get you?”

  “Uh, just coffee.”

  “Just coffee? You sure?”

  Justine nodded.

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  She walked down the counter and got Justine a cup of coffee. Justine dug out some change and paid her. She sipped at her coffee, looking around at the other patrons. Justine was lost in thought, but was startled out of her reverie by a plate being placed in front of her. Fries and a grilled cheese sandwich. She looked up at the waitress.

  “On the house,” the waitress said, waving off her question. “You looked like you could use it.”

  “Oh—thank you,” Justine stammered, surprised. She picked up the sandwich and took a big bite. “It’s good,” she said, chewing.

  “Good. Enjoy it.”

  Justine nodded, and dug in. A trucker came over and sat down on the stool next to Justine’s, and looked her over as she ate.

  “Where did you say you’re headed?” he questioned.

  “Burbank,” Justine told him around a mouth full of sandwich.

  He was middle-aged, losing some hair on top, she saw when he took off his cap to rub his sweaty head. Big hands. Sunburned face. He was a big guy. Wore a grimy looking black t-shirt.

  “I’m driving that way. You want to hitch a ride?”

  Justine opened her mouth to answer him, and then saw the waitress, who had moved further down the counter beyond the trucker, shaking her head adamantly. Justine hesitated. She hated being told what she could and couldn’t do, but she intended to get to Burbank, and if this trucker wasn’t a safe way to do that  …

  “No,” she said slowly, “I already got a ride.”

  He looked disappointed.

  “Fine,” he said grumpily. He got up from the stool and walked away.

  A few minutes later, the waitress was back. She wiped down the counter around Justine’s plate and spoke to her quietly.

  “You gotta be real careful, honey. If you’re gonna hitch, you have to find someone who is safe to ride with. Bo  … not him. Don’t trust him any further than you could throw him.”

  “Okay,” Justine agreed. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll find someone for you. All right? Someone safe.”

  Justine cocked her head at the waitress.

  “Why are you doing so much to help me?” she questioned. “Why are you going to so much effort?”

  “I’ve seen a lot of kids come through here. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt. When you come here  … runaway  … nobody ever sees you again, they think you just didn’t want to be found. No one knows if you’re  … hurt and left in a shallow grave somewhere. I have to protect who I can.”

  Justine shrugged uncomfortably.

  “I’ll be careful,” she promised.

  “What you should do is call your mama to come and get you, and give this foolishness up.”

  Justine shook her head.

  “I’m going to Burbank. That’s where my dad is.”

  The woman looked at her thoughtfully.

  “Then call your dad to come get you. This is not a smart way to get around.”

  “I have to,” Justine insisted.

  The waitress shook here head and sighed.

  “I’m Tracy,” she said. “You stick around here until I get you taken care of, all right?”

  Justine nodded. She picked up the ketchup bottle and poured it over her fries and started working on them. There were lots of people coming and going in the truck stop. Lots of conversations back and forth, half of them shouted all the way across the room. Most of the truckers looked pretty rough. Justine wondered how many of them the waitress actually knew well enough to make a judgment about them.

  Her fries were gone, and the coffee that she was still nursing was cold. Tracy came over to her.

  “I got someone for you,” she said. “Come here.”

  She motioned Justine to follow her, and went further down the counter, then out into the tables. She motioned Justine again, a little impatiently. Justine followed nervously, suddenly feeling a bit shy. Half the eyes in the place were following her.

  “This is Arlen,” she told Justine.

  Justine looked at the old man. He was nearly as broad across the chest as Bo had been, but a lot older. He looked like he was ninety. That was obviously why Tracy had picked him. Too old to have any vices.

  “Hi,” Justine said softly.

  “Arlen drives with his wife,” Tracy said. “She’s just freshening up right now. They’re not going all the way to Burbank, but they’ll get you as far as they can. And they’ll help you to find someone who can take you the rest of the way.”

  Justine nodded, her face getting unaccountably hot. She’d been incredibly lucky in getting help up to this point. At this rate, she’d be to Burbank in no time.

  “Have a seat, dear,” Arlen told Justine, patting the chair next to him. Justine hesitated, looking at Tracy.

  “Umm  …”

  “Go ahead. Bunny will be out in a minute. You’ll be fine.”

  Justine nodded, and sat down at the table. Tracy smiled reassuringly and went back to the counter. Justine looked at Arlen, wondering if she was supposed to carry on small talk or what. He smiled at her and didn’t make any comment. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then were joined by a red-headed woman. She was considerably younger than Arlen, and Justine would guessed she was his daughter rather than his wife. She sat down in the empty chair.

  “You must be the girl going to Burbank,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Justine agreed, forcing a confident
smile. “That’s me.”

  “That’s great. We’re glad for the company. Always nice to have someone to talk to with a fresh perspective.”

  “So, what are you going there for?”

  “We’re not going all the way to Burbank. Just running some freight, dear, that’s what we do. Maybe you’ll decide to be a trucker someday?”

  “I don’t know,” Justine said. “I don’t really drive yet. Maybe.”

  “Well, it’s not for everyone, but it suits us. Doesn’t it, Arlen?”

  He nodded, smiling. Justine had an urge to see if he had a hearing aid, and if so, if it was turned on. She had a feeling that he wasn’t really hearing anything that went on around him. Just a senile, half-deaf old man. But, as Tracy said, at least she’d be safe with them.

  “We’ll just get a bite to eat,” Bunny said, “and then we’ll get back on our way. Do you need anything to eat?”

  “No, I already did.”

  “I’m Bunny, and I guess you already met Arlen.”

  Justine shrugged.

  “I’m Katie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Katie. We’ll have a good time chatting together, won’t we?”

  By the time that Justine finished with Arlen and Bunny, and with some weirdo named Eldron that Bunny passed her onto, Justine was seriously stir crazy and ready to meet anyone who wasn’t ‘safe.’ The long hours of inane conversations, probing questions, and road-worn stories were making her crazy. It was like spending a week with the crazy cat lady down the street. Just without the cats. Although Eldron had a pet rat that spooked Justine by climbing onto her shoulder before they were properly introduced.

  “That’s Bill,” Eldron drawled. “He’s my friend. He won’t hurt you.”

  Justine pushed the rat gingerly away.

  “He’s very nice,” she acknowledged.

  “I bet you didn’t know that ratties made such good pets,” he said. “Did you know that rats have a higher IQ than dogs or monkeys? They’re easier to train than dolphins. And they have real emotions, just like people. Why, when Sue Ann died, Billy here cried for a week. Just heartbroken, the poor fellow.”